


Wild Horses Couldn't Drag Me Away

by zaldrizzes88



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doggy Style, F/M, Hair-pulling, Mild Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Roughness, Spanking, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaldrizzes88/pseuds/zaldrizzes88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa's escape used to be horseback riding. Until she met Petyr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,_  
 _But I, I've got a war in my mind_  
 _I just ride, just ride,_  
 _I just ride, just ride_

* * *

 

Sansa had always loved riding. Growing up in New England, it was a requirement for most, but for her it was an escape. The Stark family estate had afforded a large stable and gorgeous woods, with trails Sansa easily got lost in. Nothing felt better than the sun warming her skin, wind teasing her hair as she raced across streams and down hills, urging her horse, Lady, faster, always faster. Feeling the strength and power between her legs, marveling at the control she possessed always left her breathless and flushed. Atop her horse, she felt invincible. It was intoxicating.

But since the death of her parents and brother Rob, Sansa hadn't been back. Too much pain and memories buried there for her to handle. So she'd abandoned her escape, sold Lady, and pushed all the memories of riding out of her mind. She'd tried other hobbies - knitting, running, scrapbooking, but none of them came close. She felt empty, lost without that addictive feeling. That is, until she met Petyr.

Thighs bracketing his hips, she undulated, sighing as she got used to the filling sensation in her center. They were chest to chest, Petyr kissing her swollen lips hungrily. Sansa wanted nothing more than to drown in his kisses, responding in kind with a slick tongue against his lips. Gaining entrance to his hot mouth, a low hum greeted her and sent shivers down her spine. This was unplanned, rushed. Her bra was flipped down, breasts spilling over the cups to rub freely against Petyr's chest. Her hair was down, long and tousled against her back. She kept her hips slow, a nice walking pace to get them started. Petyr's hands moved comfortably from her back to her hips, keeping a light hold as he guided her movements. Sansa's hands, buried in the hair at Petyr's neck tightened as she circled her movements, the fullness inside her hitting against that sweet spot that put fire in her blood. With a sloppy kiss, Sansa pulled her mouth away, sliding one hand down to swipe at her already tingling sex, rubbing lightly at her hooded pearl. An uninhibited moan fell from her mouth and Petyr smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I love you like this, Sweetling," he purred, skimming a hand across the top of her heaving chest. She gazed at him with hooded eyes, circling her hips again with a bite of her lip. "Like a conquering queen, riding into battle," he continued, sucking a long finger into his mouth obscenely before pinching her left nipple. Sansa bit down harder against her lip, surely drawing blood as she arched into him, the delicious pain in her chest radiating into her core. She needed more, so close to that feeling she had missed for so long. Bracing both hands against his hard chest, she pushed and he acquiesced, settling into the bed with his back flat and eyes gleaming. "If I am your queen, " Sansa murmured, shaking her hair behind her shoulders, "then you are my champion stallion." He smiled, as she continued, "I will ride you to victory." 

Petyr was hard, hot heat inside her as she straightened, taking him almost to the edge of her soaked lips. Hands on his chest, Sansa sank down, taking all of him deep. His groan and her moan mingled in their shared space as she took her pleasure, withdrawing him until only the tip of his cock remained buried in her. The thrusts were hard, and deep, his cock filling her. It felt like heaven, bouncing wildly as waves of sin rocked her until her legs shook. "That's it, baby girl," Petyr encouraged, one hand under his head, ever the collected gentleman. "Ride me," he murmured, his other hand rubbing at the space where their two bodies connected. Sansa shuddered, shifting until she was on the balls of her feet. Her calves burned, but she welcomed the pain. Anything to distract her from the growing need sitting at her center, the pleasure and pain a heady mixture. Petyr was all moans and encouraging murmurs, busying himself with thumbing her clit and ghosting his hands over her ass and thighs. It still wasn't enough.

Falling forward and back onto her knees, the angle changed and Petyr's cock rubbed against her inner wall. Sansa hissed, using her hips to ride even harder, breasts rubbing against Petyr's chest with the effort. She tightened her muscles, just like she was taking a jump, and could feel Petyr's cock shudder. "Fuck Sansa," he moaned, hands buried in the flesh of her ass, helping her move in her unrelenting pace, "don't you dare stop." Ever the obliging queen, Sansa continued her ride, alternating between thrusts and hip circles, clenching tight on Petyr's cock till she felt goosebumps wash across her skin. Her telltale call, and Petyr knew her well. "Cum for me, sweetling," he groaned, hips stuttering up to meet her downward movements.

The orgasm started as quickly as their fucking, electric shocks spreading through her core. Sansa cried out, head back, grasping Petyr's throat with one hand and the bed sheets near her right hip with the other. She squeezed, and Petyr greeted it with a strangled moan, eyes closed and mouth slack. The site of him so unhinged pushed her over the edge and she spasmed, cumming hard. The wetness flooded Petyr's cock and only increased her hip speed, sliding up and down faster and faster as she rode out the orgasm. Panting, she slowed, thighs trembling and her body flushed with heat, happiness and satiety. Removing her hand from Petyr's throat, she stroked the side of his face. Petyr eyes opened slowly, his breathing still rapid. She smiled at him, leaning down for a kiss until their bodies were flush, his still-hard cock buried in her. Petyr's hands buried in her hair, fingertips grasping tight and pulling back hard. "Pe-Petyr..." Sansa moaned, mouth open wide.

"You've had your pleasure, my sweet," Petyr growled, twisting her until she was on all fours, "but now, I need to take mine." His hands slid against her back, fingertips grazing her hot skin until he reached the swell of her ass. A quick smack and Sansa was arched, chest against the bed, in the way she knew he liked best. She buried her face in a pillow, hiding a smile as she replied with a breathy moan.

"Yes, Daddy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr waxes poetic about Sansa. And takes what he needs from her too.

Petyr is a made man. It's something he's proud of. His life has been built from the ground up - from a squalid trailer park childhood, to a Fortune 500 company. It is his effort, his game, that has turned him into a proverbial king. He had been content with his rule, his status.

_Alone_.

That was the way, the requirement. Women came and went when they served their purpose. He was never alone in the biblical sense, but his true self was closely guarded. Until.... until her.

Sansa.

A fiery redhead. A girl, now a woman, who met his every challenge. A woman who had sobbed openly at her brother's funeral but now, over a year later, argued and negotiated with top CEOs. This woman...who showed him why a king needed a queen.

Petyr couldn't keep his eyes open, the tightness of Sansa surrounding him was too much. His hands fisted the smooth, taut flesh of her ass marveling at her strength as she took her pleasure. "Fuck Sansa," he moaned, voice hoarse, "don't you dare stop." He knew she got off on this, the semblance of loss. The stripping of his layers bare until he was raw and she was full. She was lost in the moment, thrusting against his stiff cock, goosebumps flooding her skin. Petyr chuckled and smiled at the tell. So strong, but not without moments of predictability. "Cum for me, sweetling," he growled, thrusting his hips up. There was nothing more beautiful on this earth than Sansa come undone. He had quickly come to love her penchant for roughness, the hands on throats and nails against skin that always appeared at the moment of pure pleasure. His breath sputtered, her smooth hands, so small but so strong around his neck. She knew that he loved it and he loved her even more for it. Sansa's cum soaking his cock as she slipped and slid against him, rutting wildly as she rode it through. There were days Petyr couldn't believe she was his - this gorgeous woman. Why he had been so afraid, so unwilling for so long to let someone in.

Slowly, Sansa leaned forward and his head tilted to meet her own, lips brushing. She was sated, happy, and it translated in the lightness of her kiss, the teasing swipe of her tongue. He was rock hard still buried in her, her wetness only making him stiffer. He knew what he needed for release and he smiled inwardly, knowing that Sansa was primed, and more than willing. She hummed happily through the kiss and he used her distraction to snake a hand into her soft hair, the strands slipping through his fingers like water. Tightening into a fist, he yanked, with just enough force to make it sting, and was rewarded with an open mouthed moan.

"You've had your pleasure, my sweet," Petyr growled, twisting her body until she was on all fours, "but now, I need to take mine." She was a masterpiece in this position, a portrait of pleasure. The angles and curves of her skin fluid as she shifted. His hands slid against her back, fingertips grazing her hot skin. Watching as she arched into his touch subconsciously, little breathy whimpers floating into the air. He ended his exploration at the swell of her ass. So perfect. Petyr knew Sansa anticipated this moment. The change. Her breathing sped up and it took all of his self-control not to thrust into her and take her. But this wasn't about the end result - it was about the process. Hand pulled back, Petyr delivered a quick smack to the globed flesh, immediately rewarded.

"Yes, Daddy," Sansa purred, face down, chest brushing the bed as her hips pressed into the air. Petyr smiled as his cock twitched - the filth of it sending desire deep in his stomach. He can't quite remember when it started, when they  _both_ discovered this need, this interest in giving and taking. But it rarely fails to blind him with want for her, and she knows it. His queen. "Have you been a good girl?" Petyr murmurs, hands pressing her thighs wider so he can watch her cunt clench. She's almost dripping, the leftovers of her little ride clinging to her lips. Sansa replies with a groan, exaggerating her back so her ass presses even closer to his straining cock. Another smack. This time on her other cheek - the strength of it staining her skin red. Petyr loves red. Surrounds his life with it - an ode to to his queen.

"I-I've been go-ood," Sansa cries out, and Petyr can tell she is biting her lip to keep from giving more away. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, sliding a hand down between her folds, brushing against her swollen clit. Nearly hissing at the wetness, at how eager she is - creamy thighs shaking. Sansa stutters, and he waits for the realization to set it. For the roles to fall into place. "I've been a good girl.... _Daddy."_ Petyr hums and rewards her with a sharp slap between her legs, watching as her body jerks towards his hand. Drops of her release staining the sheets as her rosy lips pulse from both the pain and the need. Petyr keeps his hands moving, soaking in the submissiveness of it all, watching with hungry, hooded eyes as inch after inch of her skin flushes under his fingertips. Her inner thighs...hips...dimples above her perfectly rounded ass. And all the while, he listens as Sansa pants and whimpers like an animal in heat. 

"What do you need, sweetling?" Petyr purrs, hands swirling up to brush his thumbs along the sides of Sansa's breasts. Nearing but not quite touching her peaked, dusky nipples. Her response isn't instant, but Petyr knows she's fighting off the haze - the tug of lust and pleasure that's been slowly building in her stomach. His pride swells at that. At the fact only he's been able to do this to Sansa: give her pure pleasure. Petyr hears her lick her lips, breath unsteady as she pushes onto her elbows. "Da-daddy," she groans, eyes fluttering as he tweaks her left nipple between his fingers and gropes the heavy smooth flesh of the right with his other. Petyr's cock is roaring - the need to be buried deep in her eclipsing almost every thought. He wouldn't last much longer. "Say it, sweetheart," he growls, pulling a hand up to smack hard against her ass. Both cheeks in a quick one-two. Petyr smiles at the resulting gasp and groan that tumbles from Sansa's lips, but the smile turns predatory at the words that tumble out if her mouth.

"Want...pleasure. Daddy's pleasure. Please - oh god daddy - please."

Something inside Petyr snaps - eyes clouding into primal lust. Left hand snaking up to tangle in Sansa's hair, while the other adjusted her hips, lining her up just where he wanted her. Then, without warning, he plunged in, yanking his left hand back as his hips thrust forward. Impaling Sansa completely on his cock with a growl of pleasure, of ownership - even if just for these moments. This is what he loved about his queen. His Sansa. They gave each other what they needed. Always. And right now, he needed to fuck her senseless.

Petyr's hips set a brutal pace, pulling almost completely out of Sansa's tight, wet center before pounding back in on every stroke. To Petyr's credit, he didn't lose it immediately, even with Sansa's slick walls pulsing and milking him for his release in an almost maddening rhythm. Even with Sansa completely given in, head tilted back as he kept his fingers buried in her hair and a onslaught of heavenly moans, gasps and cries falling from her lips. Even...even as she pushed up completely onto her hands, arching her back even more until her ass popped and her hips met every single one of Petyr's thrusts head-on. No. He was determined to make this last, even if it meant ignoring the screaming in his blood. Instead, he grit his teeth and groaned, focusing on keeping his pace, on the exquisite way Sansa's ass rolled when his hips met hers. To think, she had just finished riding him like a prized stallion and here he was, mounting her like his lioness. No...

His wolf queen.

"Fuck sweetling. That's it," he praised, tugging harder on her hair. Sansa rewarded him with a long moan and a litany of "Daddy's", "Harder's" and "More's." Petyr knew he couldn't hold for much longer, his need too great. Sansa's words like lightening for his cock, the ache to release rumbling in his stomach. In the next moment, he had both hands gripped tight to Sansa's hips, pulling and pushing her on his cock faster and faster. His length moving easily as Sansa - impossibly - got wetter. Rivulets of her desire for him trailing down the inside of her thighs, little puddles trapped in the sheets. Her body was shaking, yielding to his cock and the pleasure coursing through her with a scream. Petyr matched her with a scream of his own, only one name on his lips as he crushed his fingers against her skin, pulling her up. Hips loosing their rhythm, his thrusts erratic as he neared his release and Sansa's body quivered underneath him. She rose with his grip, arms wrapping up around Petyr's neck as she presses her back flush to his chest. Keeping enough of an arch to allow Petyr to keep fucking her deep. Her flexibility never failing to leave him speechless. A hand clamped tight around her waist as he strangled out a growl. Sansa opened her mouth to hiss in pleasure before tilting her head back, mouth just below Petyr's ear. "Cum in me Petyr. Cum in me now."

He saw fire.

With a shout, Petyr pumped his hips. Once. Twice. Three times. His cock emptying deep inside Sansa as she met each thrust with her own hungry muscles. Milking him even as he pressed fully inside, bottoming out in her with a gasp. Sansa murmuring encouragements, lips pressing against his neck, occasionally letting her tongue have a taste of his salty skin. Both panting, skin covered in sweat and the evidence of their fucking. Petyr unable to stop touching Sansa - hands moving across her body, from her swollen clit to her full breasts until reaching her neck. Humming with happiness as he tilted her chin, their mouths lazily meeting for a deep kiss. Taking their time, tongues tangling together as Petyr's cock slowly softened. Sansa's pulsing making it a slow, tortuous comedown that Petyr gladly repaid through his tongue and teeth. Throughly using her mouth and lips until both parted, gasping for air.

"That was..." Petyr huffed with a weary smile, slowly pulling out of her hot heat and falling onto his back on the bed. Sansa giggled, snuggling tight against him, head on his chest. "Intense?" she offered, gazing up at him through lidded eyes. Petyr's breath caught in his throat - at the beauty in those eyes and intelligence and strength and...the list went on and on. He was lucky. Blessed. What had felt like a curse - women, intimacy - now felt like his destiny. Only with his sweetling. His Sansa.

Petyr presses a soft kiss to her forehead, nodding his agreement. "Remind me to offer you riding practice more often," he murmured, hand sliding down her naked back. Sansa scoffed in mock outrage, leaning up of his chest and smacking him lightly. "You perv!" her eyes glowing with laughter and affection. Petyr chuckled as he squeezed her ass brazenly, replying "Yes...but you love it." Sansa rolled her eyes, tracing her finger along the scar that slashed through his chest as Petyr continued, "Just as I love you." The blush that stained Sansa's cheeks was lovelier than any flower and the look she gave him as she met his eyes spoke volumes. Leaning up, she quickly pressed her lips to his, kissing Petyr hard and deep before pulling away and brushing a stray hair from Petyr's forehead. "If I say I love you more," Sansa purred, licking her lips, "will you clean me up before I take a shower?" Petyr's eyes darkened, the never ending pool of want refilling quickly as he stared at Sansa. He had all night with her. This siren. This goddess. All of his life too if he was lucky. And making luck had always been his forte.

He was the luckiest man on the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Spring treat :)
> 
> I couldn't leave this fic alone - I've been thinking for months about how I needed to add Petyr's piece.
> 
> I'm not the biggest fan of overt Petyr-Sansa daddy kink, but I think a nice dose here or there is totally their style.
> 
> Feedback appreciated! :D


End file.
